What a weekend

On Friday I went to my daughter's last day of school chocolate fountain party. I found it interesting that most of the boys were drinking the chocolate from the the little paper condiment cups while the girls were carefully dipping...
I then went on to pick up and deliver folding tables and chairs, drop off dirt to be analyzed at the local MSU Extension office, go to the post office, take the recycling to the center, get ice cream for my dumpling, go home, pay bills, drop off the mail, drop off the dumpling with my mom, meet with a contractor at my aunt and uncle's house, go to the bank and get cash for my husband, drop off said cash with said husband, grab a drive-through "snack", go to the drug store and then drive to Charlevoix to pick up my step son for the summer. Oh - and then drop off more mail, pick up the dumpling and come home. Pretty typical.
Except on Saturday afternoon, when I realized my company credit card, with which I got cash for the hubby, was missing. After a thorough search of the car, purse, wallet, pockets, sanity, I was certain I either threw it away, recycled it or mailed it. S$&t.
I love the town in which I live, which is why I live here. It is breath-takingly beautiful, quaint, safe, friendly, trustworthy and stable. However, I found that when I got out my husband's business credit card, issued as a check card from our 100+ year old local bank, to find the 1-800 phone number to call for a lost or stolen card... there wasn't one. Nothing on line. No one at the bank. Mastercard's emergency line transferred me to my financial institution, and, as I mentioned, it now being 7:00 on a Saturday evening, it was closed. Fantastic. I sent an email anyway and left a phone message.
Now, we all hear stories about the post office, going postal, and those letter carriers who just can't get it right. My home town has one who is now and forever more my hero. I had a phone message yesterday late afternoon, 5:47 to be exact, on a Sunday, from a gentleman named Patrick Holt. Patrick is a local mail carrier. When Patrick emptied out his blue mailbox he found my card, called, and then put it in an envelope at the front desk with Fred. My hero. Now, if you know Fred in this case, you know that if I'm not armed with enough identification to get me into Fort Knox I'm not getting that envelope. AND, in the meantime, I have also received 2 phone calls and an email from the bank. Hooray for my small little quaint, safe town.

Back to Saturday. After my long day Friday and panic attack about the credit card on Saturday, my husband looked at me and suggested I go for a run. I did. What a nice change. It's been so rainy I've been training in the basement, so it was refreshing to get outside again. I made mental notes of all the animal tracks I saw, new trees that are down from the winds, signs of horses being ridden on the trails I run, different bird songs, flower scents and all of the good stuff a trail run brings.
As I entered the meadow that marks the last leg of my run I saw a skunk. I've mentioned many times my dogs just do not chase things. I've also mentioned Hank is getting up there in age. Put those 2 tings together and it is pretty amazing that the old boy completely ignored my and ran nose to rump right into that big, fat skunk. Gully and I ran the other direction. I spent the remainder o the evening getting the recipe for skunk scent remover (1/4c baking soda, 1 pint peroxide and a blurp of detergent), stripping down in the little tiny 1/2 bath and covering myself literally head to toe with the slurry. I barely even got any on me - just when I was holding Hank by his back leg and dousing him with soap and water (bad idea - just spreads it), but it was enough that if I didn't get it off I was going to have to sleep outside. But it smelled outside.

Then yesterday I had about 7 hours of stamina training at my brother and sister-in-law's house, where we took down 6 BIG white pines. I was the chief groundie, meaning I gathered and hauled and coordinated the hauling of the brush to the chipper, as well as moving around the 65 lb. mats for driving on grass and rolling as many of the trunk sections as I could up the hill and onto the flat part of the lawn. I'm too old for that. Actually, truth be told, I had a great time. I was snuffing sweat up off the end of my nose, getting sap in my hair, blisters on my feet, cuts and bruises on my arms but it was fun. Everyone was working - from 3 year olf Charile all the way up to his mom.
After that we went to the cabin for my dad's 65th birthday dinner - Ben and the kids and I all pretty much just sat there - exhausted, content.
So, spend time with your families. Do good deeds. And be thankful for who you are and where you live.
So, spend time with your family, do good deeds,